


Stranded

by ShortInsomniac98



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Characters Watching James Bond Movies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Ficlet, First Time, Fluff, Hot Chocolate, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 20:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20159947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShortInsomniac98/pseuds/ShortInsomniac98
Summary: While on holiday, Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to spend the day in their hotel room when the weather gets bad.





	Stranded

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on my Tumblr a couple weeks ago, based on a request from an ask game, where someone asked for Ineffable Husbands and the tropes "stranded due to inclimate weather" and "first time."

“Looks like we won’t be going anywhere today,” said Aziraphale, peering out the glass doors which led out to the balcony of their hotel room. He looked over his shoulder at Crowley, who was standing close behind him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” said Crowley, going back to his bed and flopping into it on top of the covers.

“You’re not going back to sleep,” Aziraphale said, tilting his head slightly and giving him a look, a sort of warning.

“Or what?” Crowley smirked.

“Or I’ll open that bottle of wine without you, and you won’t get any,” said Aziraphale with a grin, coming to sit beside him.

Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and rest his head in his lap. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, looking up at him over the top of his sunglasses.

“You’re right,” said Aziraphale. “I wouldn’t.” He stroked Crowley’s hair gently, letting his fingers become buried in it. His fingernails grazed his scalp, and Crowley sighed pleasantly. “So what should we do today?”

Crowley sat up suddenly and snapped his fingers. The television screen came to life and on it, an American spacecraft in an old, 1960s-style film was being swallowed up by another spacecraft, severing an astronaut’s line and leaving him adrift in space.

“This one again?” said Aziraphale.

“It’s a classic!” Crowley said defensively.

“I’d hardly call _You Only Live Twice_ a classic,” he replied, rolling his eyes as he rose from the bed.

“Where are you going?” asked Crowley.

Aziraphale glanced at the screen again on his way to the kitchenette, this time to see a young Sean Connery in the arms of some young Asian beauty.

“To make cocoa,” said Aziraphale. “Would you like some?”

“Hmm,” Crowley intoned, not taking his attention away from the screen. “Oh, shit!” he cried, seeing the armed men on the television come in to shoot the bed where Bond had been lying, filling it with bullets.

“You knew that was coming,” said Aziraphale with an amused little giggle.

“It surprises me every time, though,” said Crowley. “Er, yes, please. Do we have marshmallows?”

“Of course,” said Aziraphale.

“Big or little ones?”

“The little ones,” said Aziraphale, retrieving the bag from a brown grocery bag on the counter.

“Okay, then six of those, please,” Crowley said.

“Alright,” said Aziraphale.

“Thank you,” Crowley replied, his eyes still glued to the screen.

Aziraphale smiled. Crowley was so adorable when he watched his movies, so innocent and sweet, almost human. Aziraphale would never say this aloud, of course, unless he wanted to see Crowley try to prove he was a big, bad demon. Which was…well, it wasn’t exactly “adorable,” but it definitely was something to behold, Aziraphale thought, blushing.

He came back a few minutes later and passed a mug to Crowley as he settled into the bed beside him. Crowley, though seemingly enthralled by the action on the screen, was aware enough of the mug his husband had handed him to cool it to the proper temperature before raising it to his lips.

Aziraphale chuckled quietly.

“What?” Crowley asked, flatly and slightly delayed.

“You, dear,” said Aziraphale.

“It was hot,” said Crowley, glancing at him briefly, searching his face for some sign that he’d meant something else, but finding nothing but a smug smile, he returned his attention to the film.

As the film progressed, Crowley slowly made his way closer to Aziraphale until he was sitting beside him, holding his hand in his own, and resting his head on his shoulder. His cup, now empty, was still in his hand, sitting beside his leg on the mattress. Aziraphale didn’t bother to take it or even to offer to. He didn’t want Crowley to move, and certainly, he didn’t want to pull him out of this little trance he seemed to be in as he watched his movie. It was just too perfect a moment.

Finally, the movie ended, and without sitting up or even bothering to put on the show of snapping his fingers, Crowley shut the television off.

“Did you enjoy that then?” asked Aziraphale.

“Just as much as I did when it came out,” Crowley said softly with a small laugh.

“When was that? Sixty-six?”

“Sixty-seven,” said Crowley.

“The same year—”

“Yeah,” said Crowley.

“Do you want to watch something else?” asked Aziraphale.

“Er,” Crowley hesitated, pushing himself up a bit. “Can I kiss you?”

This wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to ask, Aziraphale knew. But for some reason, this time it felt a little different from the times before, or maybe it was Aziraphale that felt different.

“Yes,” he said softly.

As Crowley leaned in to press his lips to Aziraphales, and to touch his cheek gently, Aziraphale took the mug from Crowley’s other hand and leaned across him to set it on the bedside table, and he kissed him back, gently at first, then with a little more urgency. His hands found the top buttons of Crowley’s shirt and he undid a few.

“What’s this?” Crowley asked, pulling away for a moment, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“I, erm,” Aziraphale hesitated, kissing him again gently, and Crowley welcomed him, pulling him down on top of him as he laid back. Aziraphale broke away again briefly. “I want you,” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah, I can tell,” muttered Crowley, laughing under his breath as he kissed him again.


End file.
